


the bells of time

by wadingpool



Series: Linked Universe [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Link's Awakening, The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask, The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Childhood Trauma, Gen, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Platonic Cuddling, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sleep Deprivation, Temple of Time, somniphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-14 02:43:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20184943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wadingpool/pseuds/wadingpool
Summary: It seems that no matter how many years have passed, how many worlds he saved, he would always feel like he were back in the blinding white of marble pillars and tall windows pressing down on him.





	the bells of time

**Author's Note:**

> I started replaying Zelda since I've been hyped up due to BOTW 2 being announced and I have some feelings about a lot of the games, mostly Ocarina, Majora, and Link's Awakening. This is my first Zelda fic in a good while and I don't know if I did it justice but I hope I did. 
> 
> This is also based on [Linked Universe](https://linkeduniverse.tumblr.com) by jojo56830 on tumblr, an AU that I've particularly fallen in love with, to be honest
> 
> The description of the temple of time is based on [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PWhh1mx_f24) amazing recreation by CryZENx.
> 
> The little poem is from the description of [this audio of Song of Healing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XDX4ZwUeOok)
> 
> Anyways, I hope yall enjoy this and sorry for inaccuracies.

It seemed he could never move on from that point in his life. He couldn't move on from being the small nine-year-old child, standing in front of the only father he ever knew as he slowly withered away before his eyes. He couldn't forget the evil look in the tall man's eyes and the fear that overtook him. He could still feel the heat of the fires of Death Mountain as he hunkered down, a shield much too big for him strapped to his back as rocks rained down on him and he remembered a few tears that had slipped his eyes from the fear. He remembered the humidity and disgusting warmth of Lord Jabu-Jabu's insides and the frustration he felt with dealing with Princess Ruto. He remembered Zelda as she threw the ocarina in the moat and the pain that shot through his body at Ganondorf's magic.

He remembered speaking to the hurt soldier he found as he had walked down the alleyway. He remembered the man stuttering as he choked out words that his child self didn't understand. He remembered the man reaching out to him before staying still. He remembers being confused, a young mind not quite understanding what happened to the man. He could feel the fibers of the man's shirt, the warmth of his chain mail and armor.

"He's stopped moving..." he heard Navi says, in a strange tone of voice. Something akin to shock with something else. He remembered placing a small, dirtied hand on the man, Navi urging him forward to the Temple.

"Link, leave him alone. The soldier he is just... just sleeping... H-He's tired, Link,"

He remembered the Temple of Time the clearest. It was scarred into his mind, always present and at night, when all is quiet, Malon resting next to him, he sees it. He breathes in the scent of frankincense, the sunlight reflecting into the marble, shadows from the sun cast around the empty, large hall. He sees himself in the polished, white marble floors. A round face that hadn't had the chance to lose its baby fat, bright blue eyes filled with wonder at being in such a large space, so different from the woods and seemed alien from the rest of Hyrule, even Castle Town. He looks up, the ceiling high, seemingly going on for miles and miles with what looked like no end in sight. He stepped on the cool marble, Navi's blue light coloring the floor the comforting shade, and felt a deep grove through his worn boots. He remembered the black and white marble with gold intricacies depicting the triforce. He gingerly moved away from it before staring at the altar before him, the light entering the temple from the tall windows warming his face. He felt something beckoning to him, a soft melody pulling him forward. It was sweet but it was a sad melody, the same one Zelda taught him before she left. The Song of Time. He stepped forward, unsteady legs making their way toward the altar. The black triforce with its spanning wings seemed to stare him down. Something told him not to be afraid. He remembered walking directly up to the altar, up to the carpeted steps, his head barely being able to look over the altar, having to stand on the tips of his toes.

He remembers placing the spiritual stones on the altar, the bright lights engulfing the temple as what had originally appeared to be a wall opened up to a dark room. He felt the change in the air current of the room and something pushing him forward. It sounded like a chime, a beckoning call to him to enter the room. He wishes he never answered the call. He wishes it was never his duty, now that he was older, much older than he should be, and with so much damage, he could only cry for his younger self. He remembered as he stepped forward, climbing the steps and entering the room, covered in edges, torches flickering, with a light shining down on a pedestal with a sword buried into it and statues of the Golden Goddesses towering over him in the northern wall of the room. He doesn't know if he had felt sick like he does as he remembers everything, but he felt something and it made him stop in his tracks. He hears Navi announce the name of the sword aloud to him, but it wasn't needed. It manifested in his head.

Master Sword. The Blade of Evil's Bane. The burden he didn't know would be his to carry, a sword he hadn't even known was a burden. His and his alone to carry.

He doesn't remember walking up to the sword. He will never know if it was he who had walked forward or Her that made him walk forward. His memory cuts to being on the pedestal with the sword, small hands not being able to wrap completely around the hilt. He could only see himself reflected in the blade, with the colors of the sigils carved in the floor pulsing around him, giving everything a surreal look. He remembers tears sliding down his face, fear in his heart, and a feeling of tiredness that swept through him, right as he pulled the sword and he fell asleep, seeing everything in a white haze. A horrid grin, laughter that froze him to his core as it ridiculed him, those evil, evil eyes staring him down with a sick satisfaction and sheer hatred and power.

Since he woke up, he could never trust himself to sleep. He remembers traveling in his journey, forcing himself to stay awake, chest burning as if his heart was on fire, lungs refusing to fill with air if he even thought of going to bed. Termina kept him busy and oftentimes, he would collapse from sheer exhaustion, only to be frantic upon his awakening. He had thought it could be due to hypervigilance, not being able to relax. But after everything, after Ganon, after Majora, he would feel that constriction in his chest, the aching of his lungs, and the tears welling in his eyes ever night. He could never explain it, the horror that seized his heart, the cold dread that seeped into his body, only the thought of not again echoing in his mind. As he grew older, he rationalized it was his seven-year sleep. Malon, bless her heart, helped him through the worst, his love standing by him after every episode and every fitful sleep he had.

He had gotten better. He truly did feel better but there is always that instinctual panic.

He never wanted to lose another seven years, he didn't want the people he loved to move on while he stayed back, not being able to join them, everything against his will, as if he were dead. Link didn't fear death, no, he feared the idea of being essentially dead for seven years, everyone moving on from him, and for him to return to that life. He never wanted that to happen to him. He remembers how it felt. He had been a child in the body of a teenager, not being as mature as he should've, still yearning to be outside and play with the Kokiri, something he was never going to be able to do again.

He had been traveling with the others for a few months, the many Hyrule's making him weary, and it would have put him in the foulest of moods, were it not for the bright sparks around him. There were arguments (how could there not be with so many of them?) yet they were a close-knit unit, people Link, or Time as he was called, could rely on. They were in Four's Hyrule, the smallest hero seemingly excited to be back in his time. He had talked energetically about his Zelda and the maidens, his father, and the knights. There were moments where he would stutter over a sentence, before recovering. Time knew he was hiding something. It wasn't a problem, though. Everyone was entitled to their secrets, as long as those problems won't affect the group. He knew he had his secrets, secrets he would take to his grave, never to be told anyone except his wife. He felt the urge to touch his scarred eye, rub at the marks left on his skin by the mask. Somethings were better left unsaid.

Time took the second watch that night, relieving Hyrule from his position. He hadn't been able to sleep, the dread taking him over. It would be a sleepless night. He might as well not wake up the Captain for his watch, the other needed his rest. Time settled down, Biggoron's Sword a comfortable weight on him, as he watched over the camp of heroes. He never knew what to feel as he stared at them. He was the oldest of them all, the majority still being teenagers and that angered and terrified him. He thinks about Four, the second youngest, and wonders how old he was on his adventures. He knows he isn't the only one, Twilight and Warriors have thought of it as well. The three of them were the oldest, taking it upon themselves to take the charge. Time wonders why Hylia favors children to carry out her will.

He stays awake, staring over at young faces when he notices that someone is missing. He is immediately on edge, figuring out who is missing. Legend. His bedroll was empty where it lied next to Hyrule. Time cursed his distracted state of mind. He stood up, and quickly looked around, noticing the dirt was disturbed leading to the forest. Time wasn't the best tracker, that was Twilight, and Wild, but he knew enough to get by, having grown up in the Lost Woods. He followed the direction of where he assumed Legend went. Where would he be? Maybe he had just gone to relieve himself, it didn't have to be anything of import, yet Time couldn't help but need to quell the dread that was further building up in his stomach. He pressed forward, sword drawn, eyes scanning the foliage. He heard the soft notes of an instrument to his left and felt himself stop. He listened closer, heart thundering in his chest. It wasn't an ocarina, but it sounded close enough, and he felt sick like he was a child all over again, and he swears he could feel the weight of the ocarina in his hand, he can feel the same, lightweight tunic he used to wear. He swallowed, following the music, as he did so long ago.

It wasn't an ocarina, it wasn't Saria's Song and it wasn't the Song of Healing. If it were the latter, he doesn't know if he would have been able to move. He kept going forward, like he has his whole life. He broke through a clearing, spotting Legend perched on a rock, a long wind instrument in his hand as he played a soft melody, something that sounded morose and lonely. The younger hero still hadn't noticed him, enraptured in his playing. Time remained quiet, observing the other. Legend was one to keep emotions and his secrets close to his chest. It seemed the only one he was willing to somewhat let down his walls around was Hyrule. Legend tended to be softer around Hyrule, most likely stemming from their relationship of predecessor and successor. He jested with the others, most notably Warriors, but never seemed as relaxed as he did at this moment. Yet, Time could see the slight trembling as Legend paused, before playing much louder and fuller than he had before, his whole heart poured into the song he played. The first notes pierced the air before evolving into something much larger, something that engulfed the whole clearing in the gut-wrenching pain Time could hear in the notes. He felt his feet move, approaching the lonely hero, standing behind him. He knew Legend knew he was here. Legend continued playing. Time sat next to him on the rock, staring forward into the silver water of the pong in front of them. Time ignored the tears streaming down Legend's face, the dark circles under his eyes so much like his. Legend finished with a single note, a vibrato that had nothing to do with him controlling it.

"It's called the Ballad of the Wind Fish." Time nodded, remembering a song by the same name in a world he suffered for. He stayed quiet, allowing Legend to say what needed to be said, but there's was nothing to say. The other stayed quiet, staring at the flute in his hands, eyes far away, tears slipping down his face, cheeks still clinging to the last bit of roundness, betraying how young he truly is. The two stayed quiet, the moon looming over them, not shedding a tear. It had already cried enough in Time's life, so he let himself feel its sadness in his soul instead.

_Your true face... What kind of... face is it? I wonder... The face under the mask... Is that... your true face?_

He wondered the same thing. His hand reached for the marks on his face, a testament to one of the hardest battles in his life. He knew his true face. It had never changed. He will always be the scared child, the one who cried and cried for the people he would never be able to come back to. One part of him will never grow, and it is that part of his heart that has been fractured, irreparable.

"I can't sleep either," he broke the silence, swallowing roughly. He feels Legend's heavy gaze upon him. Time can't look at him, knows he will lose all resolve to speak if he does and he no longer has a fairy to lend her voice to him. "My mind can't move on from my memories, and I," he pauses, taking his time. He dislikes showing any perceived weakness. He was the oldest and therefore should be the strongest. He was tired of being scared. He was tired of being strong. He was tired.

"I'm terrified of the notion of falling asleep. I don't want to lose control of myself and I'm scared if I go to sleep, I won't be in control of anything, much less what I must do. I am terrified that my free-will... It won't be within reach if I wake up, that my life is under someone else's control again and it terrifies me."

They sit in silence, Time's heart aching. He had only ever told Malon of his fear, not being able to hide it from her. He never wanted to hide anything from her. As such, she's the only one to know his whole soul, his true face, and he knew hers. However, something in his soul, that fractured part, recognized something in Legend. That scared Time more than sleep ever could. He hoped it was wrong, that Legend didn't have to deal with the same fear Time did, but hearing his silence and having seen the tears, he knew the younger understood perfectly. He hated to feel alone in his fear, but he didn't want anyone else to carry that burden.

"I don't want to dream... I'm scared to fall asleep and dream again... I'm scared it will be a dream that I don't want to wake up from and I'll lose everything again," LEgend whispered, voice fragile as he clutched the flute in his hands. Time noticed the word choice. He didn't comment on it. He picked up enough.

_I wonder... If you do the right thing... Does it really make... everybody... happy?_

Time wrapped an arm around the smaller set of shoulders, gently bringing Legend closer. He tensed, and Time began to retrieve his arm, an apology on his lips from crossing the invisible boundary between them, before Legend choked and buried himself in Time's arms, silent as his tears seeped into the side of Time's tunic. Time froze, not knowing what to do, before he eased his hand in Legend's hair, gently carding his fingers through blonde strands. He felt the melody in his heart and hummed it out, the same notes that healed so many souls, from Mikau's to Time's soul. The song that will heal someone's soul. He hums it now, not only for Legend, but himself. He hasn't played it since Termina, he doesn't know if he ever will after this. He just hopes it soothes one of their souls, if not the both of theirs. Time remained with Legend, not knowing how long the two sat together, Time holding Legend as if he were a child. Time thinks of how many adventures Legend has gone through and looks down at the young man sobbing into his shirt and he curses the Goddess, not for the first time, and not for the last time. He doesn't wonder if she even cares about their plight. He knows she doesn't.

"I was playing it to see if I was going to wake up... If this was a dream... I don't want to wake up from this dream, not right now... I don't want to lose everyone... I don't want to kill them again..." Time sighed, holding Legend tighter.

"Then don't wake up. Stay asleep, you'll be fine. We'll be fine. You won't lose us, I promise."

They stay there, Legend tensing before he finally allows himself to melt further until his shaking subsides and his breath evens out. Time waits a while, finishing the final note of the song before slowly detangling himself from Legend. The young face has a furrowed brow that is soothed away when Time picks him up, the younger curling up to his chest. Time breathed easily, carrying the younger back to the camp, making sure to carefully transport him. He found himself humming once again, felt the ocarina in his hands instead of Legend, and he let his tears slip, in the quiet tranquility of the forest, a forest that looked so much like his old home but would never be it. He felt tired.

_Time... Cruel and Fearful... _

_A swamp, where one is about to be executed for a crime he did not commit... _

_A sea, where a fallen musician can only lament his failure... _

_A mountain, where a leader is powerless to save his people... _

_A valley, where the ghosts of the past still fight a war that has long since ended... _

_A town... caught between it all... where the end begins... _

_And one boy... a hero... with all the time in the world... and no time at all... to save this world..._

He placed Legend in his bedroll and looked up. It was still night out, the moon still looming over him, but he wasn't as horrified at it as he may have been before. He knew the moon was just as much a victim as he was. They were one and the same, the Goddess's golden rays only cast upon them, fueling them but not defining them. It took him so long to realize it. He looked at the sleeping faces, staying close to Legend. He was incredibly tired, energy almost nonexistent. He could feel the old anxiety, but one glance at Legend was enough for his fear to be assuaged. He saw shifting on the other side of the camp, most likely Twilight waking up for the third watch. He closed his head, resting his weary body on the ground, and after minor hesitation, wrapped an arm around Legend, the other instantly latching onto him. He let sleep take him, the last bits of fear still clinging to his heart.

He would deal with the consequences in the morning. He will move on like he has done so many times before.

He dreams of temples and forests, of wide oceans and soaring mountains. He dreams of a ranch and he dreams of eight souls so like his own. He remembers yet he makes new memories, all in that unknowing world that is his sleep. He will never seem to move on, forget about the Temple of Time, the cold marble floor that he felt against his cheek, the creak in his bones as he woke up, the unsteadiness of long legs, and the absence of familiarity. His heart will always be of the small not-Kokiri child who lost everything and had to rebuild himself. He will always be the forgotten Hero of Time, the one who has so many uncertainties he isn't sure which one is truly him. He dreams and remembers, another cycle of his life. He dreams and remembers until finally, he is blessed with mercy and slips under, to wait with dread in his heart for what awaits him when he awakens his eyes again. He is getting better but not all souls can be healed, not completely. He finds his peace with that.

He mourns for a sixteen-year-old with the mind of a nine-year-old, dying a painful death after failing the quest that ruined his life. He mourns the hero who was not there to save his kingdom, a kingdom that floods due to his absence. He mourns the two that existed but never existed in his world. He mourns the nine-year-old child who lost everything, who still lives in him, and who cries every night for those he lost.

He mourns for a young boy, burdened with the same curse that he was cursed with, mourns how young he was to witness death and suffering, how he too mourns his dreams. He mourns them all, he mourns for himself. It seems all he's done his whole life is remember and mourn. He is tired of mourning, tired of sleepless nights. He wishes to rest, hopes in death he will be allowed some respite. He lets himself slip into the dark embrace of sleep, hoping for the rest he so desperately needs.

He hopes it reaches those who needed it as well.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](https://wadingspools.tumblr.com)


End file.
